By the time they were back at her truck, loading up the equipment, Lula was fighting the urge to tackle Carter to the ground and wrestle him out of his clothes. Only the knowledge that she was the one who had insisted they take things slow and Carter’s seeming ease with just friends gave her the strength to keep her hands to herself. After all, no one likes a gutless flip-flopper—or a frisky one—and if Carter were feeling the same relentless pull that she felt, surely he wouldn’t be able to walk away from her so easily.
But Tuesday’s date ended the same way Monday’s had, with a friendly embrace on the porch that lasted just long enough for Lula to become keenly aware of the firm muscles beneath Carter’s sweatshirt.
Then he was gone, trotting off like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, Lula went to bed cranky and achy and lay awake for hours, her restless legs shifting back and forth and her stomach churning. She tried to tell herself it was the rock climbing that was to blame, but she knew sore muscles weren’t the cause of the ache that gnawed away at her insides, reminding her of all the places she hadn’t been touched in so long.
Wednesday she and Carter shared a romantic supper at the local steak house, and Thursday they spent the evening in Lula’s living room, cuddled on the couch while one of the many versions of A Christmas Carol played on the television.
Less than a week earlier, Lula had been standing at her window thinking her own bah humbug thoughts, but now she wanted to mute Scrooge and make out in the flickering rainbow lights of the Christmas tree. She could imagine how beautiful Carter would look with the red and blue playing across his bare chest, the way his eyes would darken as she explored his skin with her fingers, her lips, her tongue…
“I’d better head out before I fall asleep,” Carter said halfway through the movie, leaping to his feet as Lula was mentally tracing a line from his manly pecs down to the thin trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.
But he bolted for the door without even a hug, leaving Lula alone on the couch, running her fingers over the warm place on the cushion where he’d been a moment before, filled with so much longing that she wanted to scream. Or cry. Or strip down to her underwear and beg Carter to come back over and see if he could resist the new black lace bra and panty set Mia had slipped into her mailbox as an early Christmas gift the day before.
Instead, she took a long cold shower that did nothing to cool her off and went to bed with her vibrator for the first time in longer than she could remember. But the silver bullet was a pathetic substitute for Carter’s kiss, Carter’s touch, and the way he used to hold her gaze as he pushed inside her, making something so intimate even more intense.
Friday dawned gray and cloudy, and Lula decided to play sick. She sniffed through the entire morning as she served customers and restocked the gift shop area, and when Carter came in for tea, she backed out of their plans to go caroling with Lula’s book club friends. She couldn’t make it through another evening of pretending to be just good buddies.
Carter was understanding—too understanding. He didn’t even seem upset that he would be spending the evening alone at his hotel.
Lula fumed silently through the rest of the day. That night, she barely slept, and the ache that had been making every cell in her body sore and frustrated was worse than ever.
Distance from Carter obviously hadn’t helped things, so Saturday afternoon she dressed in jeans and a festive red and white striped fleece and met him after work. They drove out to her cousin’s ranch and joined Mia and her family for a holiday trail ride through the Shermans’ expansive property. As they rode, she watched Carter’s backside shift in his saddle, a sight that made her mouth go dry and her hands grip the reins too tight.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him or keep from remembering the way she’d once dug her fingernails into his muscled flesh as he moved inside her, bringing her to life the way no man ever had.
“I think that look just got Carter pregnant,” Mia whispered as she pulled up alongside Lula on the four-wheeler her father had declared the only trail vehicle fit for a pregnant woman.
Lula’s cheeks flamed. “Oh, hush. You’re such a mess. I think you, of all people, would have figured out who gets who pregnant by this point.”
Mia giggled. “I’m just sayin’, if you two aren’t you know whattin’, you should be. He’s been looking at you the same way.”